Note 1. Arabella; originally spelt Orabele or Orabilia, now Arbel or Arbella.

Note 2. Constance, at this time p.r.o.nounced Custance.

Note 3. The members of the Tremayne family are imaginary persons.

Note 4. A fict.i.tious character.

Note 5. The lost adjective of _compa.s.sion_.

Note 6. "A Litel Geste of Robyn Hode."

Note 7. "Scarborough warning--a word and a blow, and the blow come first."--Then a very popular proverb.

Note 8.

"He that would in Court dwell Must curry Favelle."

Favelle was the mediaeval name for a chestnut horse, as Bayard for a bay, and Lyard for a grey. From this proverb has been corrupted our modern phrase "to curry favour." The word is sometimes spelt Fauvelle.

Note 9. These expressions do no violence to her Grace's epistolary style. They are to be found in her genuine letters.

Note 10. Diary of Edward the Sixth, Cott. Ms. Nero, c. x. folio 9, b.

CHAPTER TWO.

THE SILVER AND THE SABLE.

"'We measure life by years and tears,' he said; 'We live a little; then life leaves us dead, And the long gra.s.s grows greenly overhead.'"

While the party were still conversing, the post came in--always an important event at that day--and brought two letters for Isoult. The first was from Beatrice Dynham [fict.i.tious persons], who had been her fellow bower-woman with the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk, and requested her old friend to remember her in the first week in May, when she was to marry Mr Vivian [a fict.i.tious person], a gentleman of the late King's household. She also informed her that the young Duke of Suffolk, a boy of eleven years, had been placed about the person of the young Sovereign, under the care of the Duke of Somerset. The second letter was from Crowe. Lady Ashley had arrived, and had tried hard to effect a truce between the contending parties, she hoped not entirely without good results. Lady Lisle had been obliged to sell two pieces of land from the Frithelstoke estate, called Choldysoke and Meryfield; and Philippa Ba.s.set sent Isoult word that it was well Meryfield was sold, seeing that all mirth had departed from them long ago.

"When shall my mistress your friend be wed, Mrs Avery?" very gravely inquired Jennifer Trevor, Isoult's bower-woman.

"The first week in May," repeated Isoult, referring to the letter.

"Ay, methought you read so much," responded Jennifer, looking still more solemn.

"Come, out with your thought, Mrs Trevor," said Tremayne; "for I do see plainly that you have one."

"Why, Mr Tremayne," replied she, "'tis but that I would not be wed in May for all the gold in Cornwall."

"But how if your servant [suitor] were a sailor, Mrs Jennifer, and should set forth the last day of May?" queried Avery.

"Then," she said, "I would either be wed in April, or he should wait till he came back. But 'tis true, Mrs Avery, a May babe never liveth, no more than a May chick thriveth; nor is a May kit ever a mouser. 'Tis the unluckiest month in all the year. I never brake in all my life a steel gla.s.s [looking-gla.s.s] saving once, and that was in May; and sure enough, afore the same day next May died one on that farm."

"One of the household?" asked Avery.

"Well, nay," answered Jennifer, "'twas but the old black cow, that had been sick a month or more."

"Ah!" was the grave answer; "her dying was a marvel!"

"But there was a death, Mr Avery!" urged Jennifer.

"An' there had not been," said he, "I count you should have drowned the cat, to make one. But, Mrs Jennifer, in sober sadness, think you that G.o.d keepeth record of the breaking of steel gla.s.ses and the ticking of death-watches?"

"Eh, those death-watches!" cried she; "I were out of my wit if I heard one."

"Then I trust you shall not hear one," answered he, "for I desire that you should keep in your wit."

"Well, Mr Avery!" said Jennifer, "I could tell you somewhat an' I listed."

"Pray give us to hear it," replied he. "What is it? and whom threatens it? The red cow or the tabby cat? Poor puss!" and he stooped down and stroked her as she lay on the hearth.

"There shall come a stranger hither!" pursued Jennifer, solemnly. "I saw him yestereven in the bars of the grate."

"What favoured he?" asked Avery.

"'Twas a fair man, with a full purse," she replied.

"Then he is welcome, an' he come to give us the purse," was the answer.

"It shall be an other post, I cast little doubt; for he shall be a stranger, and maybe shall have full saddlebags."

"You shall see, Mr Avery!" said Jennifer, pursing her lips.

"So I shall, Mrs Jennifer," responded he. "But in how long time shall he be here?"

"That I cannot tell," said she.

"Then the first fair man that cometh, whom you know not, shall serve?"

answered he. "'Tis mighty easy witchery that. I could fall to prophesying mine own self at that rate. It shall rain, Mrs Jennifer, and thunder likewise; yea, and we shall have snow. And great men shall die, and there shall be changes in this kingdom, and some mighty ill statutes shall be pa.s.sed. And you and I shall grow old, Mrs Jennifer (if we die not aforetime), and we shall suffer pain, and likewise shall enjoy pleasure. See you not what a wizard I am?"

Tremayne laughed merrily as he rose to depart.

"I shall look to hear if Mrs Trevor be right in her prophecy," said he.

"We will give you to know that in a month's time," answered John Avery rather drily.

In less than a month the news had to be sent, for a stranger arrived.

It was Mr Monke. Jennifer was delighted, except for one item. She had announced that the stranger would be fair, and Mr Monke was dark. In this emergency she took refuge, as human nature is apt to do, in exaggerating the point in respect to which she had proved right, and overlooking or slighting that whereon she had proved wrong.

"I might readily blunder in his fairness," she observed in a self-justifying tone, "seeing it did but lie in the brightness of the flame."

"Not a doubt thereof," responded John Avery in a tone which did not tranquillise Jennifer.

When there happened to be no one in the hall but himself and Isoult, Mr Monke came and stood by her as she sat at work.